


The Shot

by transoffdensen



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Character Bonding, Gen, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, vague Nathan/Charles implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transoffdensen/pseuds/transoffdensen
Summary: When Charles finds something suspect in Mordhaus, he confronts Pickles about it— leading to a much more wholesome conversation than he was ever expecting.





	The Shot

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is at all choppy,... I haven’t written a fic in a hot minute, probably.. since..... LiveJournal??? jesus christ
> 
> listen also, all your faves are trans- sorry I don’t make the rules (this is half a joke)

Pickles was well-known for leaving his garbage around Mordhaus— beer cans, empty bottles, weed baggies and the like. When Charles noticed a needle for the first time, a brief flare of worry spiked within him. He knew Pickles had done every drug under the sun when he was in Snakes ‘N’ Barrels, but the manager had assumed the heavier stuff had been left behind, sans what the boys called their “special occasions.” If the world-famous drummer fell back into old habits, extreme rehab would have to be in order, setting their schedule back. Again.

Passing through corridors of their large home, Charles navigated his way towards the drummer’s bedroom. Maybe if he confronted him, he would get some answers, praying it was just left behind by some hopped up groupie. He came to a quiet halt in front of the entrance to the room, adjusting his glasses with a small exhale. It was nearly 3pm, and Charles had high hopes that at least Pickles was awake by now as he heavily tapped his knuckles against the door.

Silence.

He tried once more, brow knitting gently. This time there was a response.

“Yeah— Hold- Hold ahn! Just a second!!” Came an anxious reply from behind the closed door. Shutting his eyes for a moment, Charles inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. He entered without warning, eliciting a startled sound from the other. “I _said_ hold ahn, Ahffdensen!!” Pickles was fumbling with something, and Charles caught glimpse of what seemed to be a small syringe.

“Pickles, I need to have a word with you.” He stood awkwardly in the room as the other furrowed his brows in agitation at being so rudely interrupted. “I found a, ah, needle, Pickles, and if you’re going to start this on the regular again, we can’t, uh.. risk that. For the band, and for, ah, for you, espe—“

“It’s _naht_ what it looks like.” The red-head cut him off, gritting his teeth. “I swear.” He seemed quieter than usual, Charles noted, perhaps by being caught in the act of… Hm. The manager blinked at the other, an eyebrow now quirked.

“And, ah.. what is it you’re doing, then?”He questioned, staring the other man down. “I found a needle, Pickles, and, well, I can’t say I’m very .. ah, very happy. But, I’ll let you explain, of course.” Both brows were raised now, his fingers gently fidgeting with the hem of his suit jacket. He didn’t enjoy confronting the band about serious issues, especially when pertaining to their health, but it’s something he _had_ to do.

Pickles groaned, holding his face in his hands. He hadn’t moved from the spot on his bedside where he had been sitting when Charles busted in, but the syringe was now placed on the sheets next to his.. bare thigh? Charles hadn’t even noticed that the other was still just in his briefs- he was so over-accustomed to the boys’ carefree nudity by now. Slowly looking up, the drummer stared him right in the eye.

“I know.. you prahbably won’t go away even if I throw shit at ya…” He grit his teeth when Charles responded with a small agreeable sound. “I.. It’s naht- okay, it’s _naht herion_ , I swear to fuckin’ Christ.” His cheeks were turning the dimmest shade of red the more he spoke, stumbling around his words like a teenager who was caught by their parent. But it didn’t seem to be an embarrassed blush, but more in the lines of frustration. This was clearly something Pickles had tried to keep on the down-low, but had slipped up and left evidence where the one person in particular who would even care enough to have a meeting about it, would find it. Of course.

Charles continued to stand, allowing the other to take his time. Pickles sighed, his hands now gripping at the bed sheets with white knuckles. “It’s teehhh… ah fer fucks—it’s.. it’s testahsterone! Okay?!” He choked up and spat out the word like it was poison on his tongue. “You happy now?!” Voice shrill, as usual during heightened emotions, Pickles grabbed the needle and shook it in the air in the direction of his manager. “I’m fuckin’ trans, okay? You haven’t figured dat out yet?” His voice cracked, and for a split second Charles almost thought the drummer was about to cry.

While he watched the other confess this highly personal detail, the tight feeling Charles always got in his stomach when things began to spiral had eased itself. In all honesty, he had his suspicions, but he never wished to dive too deeply into matters that he, personally, didn’t think were even important. After all, he was in the same position as the person in front of him, who he now realized had been put into a spot far worse than being caught with drugs he’s already experienced before. He cleared his throat, taking a few steps closer to the bed.

“Pickles, I, ah.. I’m sorry.” Was the first thing he responded with. This caused the other to knit his brow, wondering if their robot butler was actually showing remorse. Charles took another step, hesitant this time. “I was only.. concerned. For- for you.”

The drummer rested his arm down again, sighing. “I mean, thanks, I guess?” He shrugged lightly, staring at his bare feet on the ground. He was beginning to wonder why Charles had approached him instead of pulling his usual schtick of leaving the room once an issue was absolved. He wasn’t in the mood to explain anything further to this guy. That’s when he noticed a faint heaviness next to him on the mattress, and he glanced over, seeing the other man now sitting next to him. _What the fuck?_

“Listen.” Charles spoke softly, his back straight but his features gentle. Pickles had never seen him be anything but firm and borderline uncaring during their talks… the robot was finally coming unwound. “I.. ah, well.” He coughed a bit, sighing deeply to clear his head. He looked to his right, hazel eyes meeting green. “I’m also, ah.. transgender, Pickles. And, it’s not something I’ve tried to hide, but ah, something I just.. never thought was an important aspect for the band…to be aware of.” The shock on the other’s face was something he expected. “I never thought it to be important enough to tell you all, so I just, ah..” He paused, shrugging. “Never did.”

Pickles’ eyes were wide now, staring at the stone-cold, nerdy, lame manager that he never really took the time to know better. He had seen him in his robe, chest covered in coarse brown hairs, his muscles well-toned and features highly passing. He never would have known, or even assumed, if Charles wasn’t opening up to him about this right here, right now. Glancing down at the needle in his hand, he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “So you’ve.. done this before?” He gestured his hand, which was now covered in sweat. “The only other person who really knows about this is Nate’an.” The smallest smile grew on his lips. “He walked in on me doin’ my shot one day and flipped the fuck out, thought I was too stoned tah even shoot up right.”

While he listened to the other talk, Charles raised his eyebrows at the mention of Dethklok’s head man, almost surprised to hear that it didn’t seem to cause a commotion when he had found out about their drummer. His chest grew tight upon realization that that would mean Nathan wouldn’t care about him being trans. Shaking his head lightly, he pushed those feelings back, deep down into his mind. This wasn’t the right time to focus on that idea. He turned his attention back to Pickles, who was now just staring down at the testosterone shot he still had to administer.

“I can’t.. _can’t_ _believe_ yer the same.” Pickles muttered, after a few moments of silence had passed. “That’s really cool, ya know? I never wouldah guessed.” And then, he smiled at Charles. A wide, genuine, lop-sided smile. “You pass really well, dood.”

Charles felt his cheeks burn just the slightest at the compliment. Finally passing as cis was something he worked very hard towards for a long time in his youth, and it hardly felt real now. “Thank you, Pickles..” He smiled back, the corners of his mouth creating the smallest dimples. “And, I’m still, very sorry. For ah, pushing you to reveal yourself in this way. Truly, sorry.”

Pickles chuckled a bit, shrugging slouched shoulders once more. “Since you don’t give a shit, and also relate I guess, it’s all cool. Whatever.” He exhaled slowly, giving himself the shot in his thigh as he spoke.

The brunette waited until he was done before standing, brushing down any wrinkles that had appeared in his suit while he had been resting. “So, I’ll ah, be on my way then.” Charles nodded at the other, who nodded in return. He moved towards the door to exit from the room, stopping to glance back over his shoulder. “If you need anything, regarding this- ah, your- situation, just.. Come to me. I’ll… I’ll help you with whatever it is you need, alright?” He smiled again, as gentle as the first one.

Pickles nodded, his posture much more relaxed and back to normal now. “Sure t’ing.” His crooked smile returned as well. “Thanks, Ahhf— … Charles.”

With that, Charles left and shut the door behind him. Possible rehab situation averted, and perhaps a closer bond with a band member beginning to brew, he continued on his way to carry out his daily duties. 


End file.
